


Blood and Sunshine

by mariana333



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Violence, Death, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Past Character Death, Protectiveness, Torture, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 15,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariana333/pseuds/mariana333
Summary: An assassin adopts a little girl.It all goes downhill from thereSeries of interconnected one shots, of varying lengths, in a vaguely linear direction.





	1. Sometimes

 

 

 

Sometimes that girl made Quinn want to tear his hair out. That carefree attitude of hers would lead to a world of trouble, of that he was certain. He was also certain he’d be bald by that point.

 

At first glance, most would describe the sunny little girl as they would any other: adorable, obnoxiously happy, a little naïve. Normal to a fault. After her most recent stunt, Quinn preferred to call her reckless. Stupid even. Overall, a real thorn in his side.

 

A weighted sigh escaped his lips, and he scrubbed a callused hand down his unshaven face. He glared up at the cloudless sky. It smirked right back at him, mocking. This was supposed to be a vacation. He was supposed to be relaxing. But who could relax with that little demon lurking around? It was like she sought out trouble on purpose.

 

Sometimes, Quinn tried to recall exactly what had possessed him into taking a child with him in the first place. What drove him to steal her away into the night, into his world of darkness. He’d not only dragged her right into his shady line of work, but added unnecessary burden onto himself.

 

Sometimes he wondered if maybe he was really just an idiot. He’d barely spared a thought when he’d taken her, he should know better.

 

Sometimes he regretted it. Honestly, life would be easier without her.

 

But then sometimes, Quinn remembered that night a little differently. Remembered staring down at a broken little girl, who stared unflinchingly right back at him. As if ready to accept her fate. She’d seemed so tiny in that moment, so delicate, so completely _alone_. And a decision had been made.

 

The summer heat had Quinn relaxing further into his recliner, his lids growing heavy. But he couldn’t sleep just yet. Sheer instinct urged Quinn to stay awake. He held perfectly still, anticipation seeping deep into his bones. And he waited.

 

Sure enough, a shadow soon fell over his prone form. He opened his eyes lazily, squinting at the sudden onslaught of light.

 

Yes, sometimes Quinn regretted taking the girl with him.

 

A smile as radiant as the sun beamed down at him.

 

Sometimes.

 

Quinn raised an eyebrow.

 

But maybe not today.

 

“Hadley.”

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Believe

 

 

Quinn’s faith in Hadley never ceased to astound her. Some days he’s assign her seemingly impossible tasks, with every expectation in her ability to accomplish it. He never outwardly said anything hinting at it, and his facial expressions were as easy to read as a brick wall. But Hadley knew, if only because he’d steadily increase the difficulty of each task.

 

It had taken time to get a read on the typically stoic assassin, and she’d thought him cruel when they first began training. Wondered if she’d just traded one hell for another. Eventually she realized it was his unorthodox way of expressing his belief in her potential. Whatever she’d done to deserve it, she was now unwilling to give it up. Unwilling to give up that glimmer of pride in his normally icy gaze, or that small smile he reserved just for her. She didn’t think he was even aware of it.

 

This did place some pressure on her, however. Failure was no longer an option if she wanted to continue living with Quinn. She needed to remain useful, to stay an asset, and so she pushed herself harder. She needed him to want her around. Because if Quinn though for even one moment that taking her with him was a mistake, he might make other arrangements. And Hadley couldn’t go back, she couldn’t. So she pushed herself even harder.

She needed this _ _.__ She chanted this to herself over and over again, teeth clenched. She needed to keep his belief in her strong, unbending. Hadley winced as she was thrown to the ground yet again, swiftly rolling back to her feet. She needed him to-

“Quinn, that __hurt__!” Hadley’s cheeks puffed up her cheeks, pointing an accusing finger. Why did she need this again?


	3. Gratitude

 

 

Hadley couldn’t suppress a cheek splitting grin when Quinn handed her the gun. Top of the line, with   a grip sized perfectly for hands as petite as hers. She traced her fingers along the barrel, turning it over in her palms. Quinn was explaining the differences between this one and the last model, how to take it apart, clean it, what  additional training would be added. It was a lot to take in all at once, and the blonde was having difficulties absorbing all the new information. Quinn didn’t seem to notice, never once looked up as he droned on. This may be the perfect chance to grab a snack, he clearly wasn’t paying her any attention-

“Hadley, are you even listening to me?”

Her head snapped up, mind forcibly dragged from the clouds. She smiled sheepishly, before nodding enthusiastically.

“Of course!”

Quinn snatched the gun out of her grip, ignoring her surprised whine of protest. He waved it around dangerously.

“The shit eating grin seems to suggest otherwise. Not even _you_ could be this excited about learning all the delicate intricacies of-”

“Thank you, Quinn!” Hadley swiftly cut in.

Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “This wasn’t a gift, Hadley. It’s a tool to ensure your survival. It’s not a toy, and I’m trusting you to handle it responsibly.”

“I know,” she said, rocking back on her heels, fingers twined behind her back. Looked up at him with wide brown doe eyes. “It’s because you want me safe. Right?”

Quinn opened his mouth but no words came. Pale cheeks stained pink, he turned away.

“Yeah well.” He muttered something unintelligible. Turning back, he adopted his usual stoic mask. Held out the gun, grip first. “I catch you screwing around with this, it’s confiscated. And you’re in for another round of hell training. Clear?”

Sucking in a quick breath, Hadley nodded quickly. She still had nightmares from last time. Quinn eyed her for a moment, then launched right back into his lecture.

She released a sigh of relief before smiling softly. One day she’d tell Quinn how much she appreciated him. When his stunted emotional reactions matured enough. Until then-

“What did you say this part was called again?”

“For Christ’s sake, Hadley, you need to _listen_ when I’m speaking-“

 


	4. Love

 

 

Quinn wasn’t a man easily moved. Be it hell or high water, Quinn’s temperament was as solid as a mountain. He’d mastered the art through sheer necessity. As a highly esteemed assassin, anything less would lead to a rather abrupt end to his existence. Not much could crack his carefully crafted mask. Except maybe a certain mischievous blonde with a penchant for attracting trouble.

Quinn could only stare in blatant disbelief. A lesser man may have allowed his jaw to drop in astonishment, possibly escalating to screaming and blowing up into a full on scene. But Quinn certainly wasn’t a lesser man, and so he kept his wits about him. Mostly. Because there truly were no words for this.

“Hadley-“ Quinn roughly cleared his throat. Tried again. “Care to explain?”

“I’ve fallen in love!”

Quinn levelled a cold, hard stare at the beaming ball of tireless energy, carefully keeping his face blank. To little point, it seemed, as she was carelessly lost in the clouds. Quinn cleared his throat authoritatively. And then pointed. “No.”

He had every intention to leave it at that. Clear, concise, to the point. But he should have taken into account he was talking to Hadley. And no way would she simply leave it at that.

Propping her hands on her hips, Hadley’s grin morphed into a pouty frown. And then she wrapped her arms around her newfound “love.” Quinn nearly cracked then, reaching a hand out in protest. Then quickly withdrew said hand, as if burned. And took a tiny step backwards. Miniscule, really, hardly of any consequence.

Hadley scrunched up her nose, narrowing her eyes. “But I’m in love, Quinn! Fallen so deep I’ve forgotten the way back. And it would be terribly unjust, _cruel_ even, for you to tear us apart.”

Quinn’s eye didn’t twitch. Such a phenomenon could never occur to someone as unshakeable as him. He did, however, let out a rather heavy sigh, kneading his fingers into his temples in the event of his inevitable headache. Decided to try one more time.

“Hadley, you-” Fingers twitching, Quinn resisted the urge to start pacing. “I have no words for you.”

The sunny smile was back full force.

“So you approve, then?” she asked, brown eyes sparkling triumphantly. Quinn stared at her for a long moment. And then decided, nope, he wasn’t doing this. The kid got herself into this mess, surely she could drag herself right back out. He hadn’t signed up for this level of shite.

With one last pointed look, he threw his hands up in defeat before turning abruptly on his heel. He purposely said nothing. Quinn was effectively washing his hands of this particular shenanigan.

“I’ll take that as a yes!” she called after his retreating back. Quinn’s steady pace faltered for a moment, shoulders stiffening. But he kept walking, didn’t slow down. He could show no sign of relenting. Give the kid an inch, she’d take a mile and a half. And so he forced his feet forward, one heavy boot after another.

Don’t turn around, don’t turn around, for Christ’s sake, don’t stop moving-

Damnit. He whirled around suddenly, vein pulsating in his forehead. And he stalked forward, fingernails digging into his palms.

“Okay, no, this will _not_ be happening-”

Hadley’s eyes widened as he swiftly approached, lower lip jutted out. “But Quinn-”

It was in that moment that Quinn snapped, infamous Irish temper flaring. All plays at composure swirled right down the drain.

“Jaysus, Hadley!” he roared. “We live in the bloody city! Where did ye’ even _find_ a grizzly bear!”


	5. Music

 

 

Quinn’s fingers glided smoothly over the worn piano keys, eyes closed. Lost in a time no longer his own.

_Quinn, sit up straight._

He clenched his teeth, jaw locked tight as he continued to play.

_Don’t slouch! It’s bad posture!_

His fingers continued to dance over the keys.

_Quinn! Are you even listening to me?_

Faster he played, harder, pounding the keys over and over and over and-

_I am speaking to you-!_

Faster, faster, he had to play faster, had to sit up straight, had to concentrate, had to be the best-

_Quinn!_

Shut up, I’m trying to play-

“Quinn?”

He slammed his hands down hard on the keys, a growl of irritation rising in his throat. He took a slow breath.

“What.” His tone was flat, inflectionless. He turned slowly, icy blue eyes narrowed, revving up to tell that woman to _get off his back._

“Hadley?”

Confusion slowly morphed into horrified realization upon spotting the timid blonde standing there, hands clasped in front of her. Her dark eyes were wide in amazement.

“That was incredible,” she breathed. Quinn startled when she suddenly plopped herself next to him on the ancient piano bench. The wood groaned under the extra weight. She stared up at him expectantly.

“Will you play more?” Her face resembled that of a puppy. Eyes too wide, too unaware. Too naive.

Quinn shook his head. Looked away. “No. That’s enough for today.” Then closed the piano lid. Her face fell, shoulders slumped. But she nodded all same.

“Okay. You’re really good though you know,” she said. She tilted her head to the side curiously. “How come you don’t play anymore?”

An innocent enough inquiry. One that made Quinn’s blood run cold, made his insides freeze, sent his mind to places darker than the abyss. But he couldn’t tell a child that. Instead he smiled bitterly.

“I hate the piano.” A simple enough answer, shrouded in years of pain and old scars. Of resentment and fear he could never quite forget.

He got up right then, decidedly done reliving memories better left buried in the past. Got several steps away before he noticed she wasn’t following after him. She was still seated in front of the abandoned piano. He waited another long moment, sighed, and then settled himself carefully back on the bench next to the desolate blonde, mindful of it’s deteriorating state. Slid the lid open again.

“One more song,” he relented. A smile grew on Hadley’s lips, and she bobbed her head excitedly. Her sudden mood swings could drive a man to insanity. He shook his head as she snuggled closer into his side. And he began to play.

He started off slow, adamant on keeping his head clear, his heart distant. A sad melody filled the empty music room. Softly, remorsefully, did Quinn play. Fingers reflexively slid into all the right places, hit all the right keys. He picked up the pace, straightened his back, had to keep up the pace, couldn’t slip, _don’t screw this up, Quinn_ -

A tiny hand covered his own. A warm comforting weight dragging him back from the brink, back to reality. His hands stilled. He hadn’t even realized they’d been trembling.

“It’s okay,” Hadley said. “You don’t have to play anymore.”

Quinn swallowed, allowing his heart to slow. Those eyes were too wise, too old, for someone so young. She shouldn’t have to worry about him. Shouldn’t have to worry about anything. He was supposed to be the responsible adult here. Some guardian he was turning out to be.

Letting out a shaky breath, Quinn allowed his shoulders to relax and slumped forward. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t know if he could. His emotional state was too raw, too intense.

Hiding out in the abandoned mansion hadn’t been part of the plan. But Quinn’s original safe house had been compromised, and so he’d had to improvise. The place was falling apart, and had been for quite some time. But it would only be for the night, and then they could move on. After a quick survey of the place, Quinn had an idea of the general layout. And he knew exactly where those double doors lead before he even entered the room. All these old mansions were built the same. So he’d known. And he must be a masochist, because he’d gone in anyways.

The piano was the only salvageable instrument in the musty music room, the others lost to time or looters. But of course the piano stood there, untouched, as if beckoning him forward, inviting him. And Quinn had accepted the temptation. Just one last kick in the teeth from a past that refused to die.

Quinn didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the keys. They were cracked here and there, some missing entirely. A soft weight hit his shoulder, disrupting his train of thought. The kid had passed out, breathing deeply. A soft beam of moonlight filtered through a dusty window,  illuminating her face. All signs of stress were smoothed out. And Quinn smiled.

His whisper disappeared into the soundless night.

“Thanks, kid.”


	6. Trust

 

 

Dealing with a child was proving to be tedious. He’d only acquired the kid a month ago. And clearly, he hadn’t thought that decision all the way through. Quinn wasn’t known for his poor impulse control. Quite the opposite, in fact. So he had no logical explanation for his completely illogical actions.

Due to the particularly delicate nature of his last assignment, Quinn had to go into hiding for a few weeks, bouncing from safe house to safe house. Now with a small child in tow. The situation was only made more difficult due to the girls base nature. Hadley was like a skittish animal. Timid, easily frightened. Shied away from the first hint of confrontation. It was nothing if not frustrating. And his precarious situation wasn’t helping matters much. Quinn didn’t have the time to patiently coax the girl out of her shell. Didn’t really have time for a child at all. He knew he should just drop her off at the nearest orphanage. Knew Zach would suggest the same thing. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to.

Quinn suspected he felt a sense of responsibility for the child, because he’s the one who stole her in the first place. Right from the middle of the soon-to-be crime scene. As for Zach… well, they weren’t meeting up again for a few weeks. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Or blow it up. Quinn had a thing for explosives.

A loud thump from down the hall had Quinn glancing in the direction of her “room.” What passed as one anyways, in this decrepit squatter house. He debated checking on her, knowing she wouldn’t want to see him, because he was pretty sure he’d screwed up again today. The fearful yelp and violent recoil handed him a fairly discernible clue, however. Maybe it was the  sharp tone of his voice, or the way he stalked towards her. He was the predator in this situation, and she the prey. He’d have to tread cautiously. But honestly, he’d only raised his voice a little. Clearly he didn’t know how to speak to children. He’d always figured they were like miniature adults. Surely they could handle a slight reprimand here and there. Builds character and such. Probably.

Another thump, and Quinn’s feet made up his mind for him, heading swiftly down the hallway. Shouldn’t kids be asleep at this hour? It was just past midnight the last time he’s checked. Was it part of his job to set a bedtime?

Quinn cracked the door open slowly, the creaking echoing loudly into the dead silence. She was huddled against the wall on a dingy mattress. Lifting her head, her eyes shot up to his in alarm before attempting to shrink herself further into the wall. Like a caged animal. Fuck. He didn’t know what to do.

A chill swept through the room, and she shivered, tightening her arms around herself. Quinn sighed, before leaving the room. Only to return shortly thereafter, ratty blanket in hand. Hadley’s eyes widened as he approached slowly. She gnawed on her lower lip, eyes darting about. Rolling his eyes, Quinn help out the blanket. Sighed again when she made no move to take it.

Quinn sucked in a sharp breath. “Look.” He said flatly, internally wincing at the harsh tone. Barrelled on regardless. The child didn’t take her eyes off him. Not even for a moment.

“You’re cold, right? So take it.”

Hadley didn’t move. Quinn prayed for patience. He placed the blanket on the edge of the mattress.

“It’s here if you want it. Don’t freeze on my behalf,” Quinn muttered. He waited a moment longer, before he finally turned to leave. And he may have imagined it, but for a moment, just out of the corner of his eye, he could’ve sworn he'd seen her smile.


	7. Tradition

 

 

She’d done it again. Something entirely unwarranted. Unnecessary. And completely unpredictable. Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

Hadley was smiling at him expectantly, decked out head to toe in various shades of green. She was wearing what looked to be a leprechaun suit, down to the belt buckle shoes and a large pot of- Jesus, was that gold _real_? A bedazzled green top hat balanced precariously atop her head. She even had matching earrings for Christ’s sake.

“What are you doing this time, you daft child?”

Her grin widened, and she twirled, throwing green confetti in the air. “It’s Saint Patrick’s day!”

Quinn stared as little green clovers fluttered through the air. He very seriously wondered just how that hat remained on her head after that odd little jig. She didn’t seem to notice his distraction as she charged on.

“Soooo, I figured we should celebrate your proud Irish heritage. I got you a hat too!” she started rummaging around in a large bag by her feet.

Quinn had to nip this in the bud, and quickly, before she got too worked up.

“Okay, wait, calm down. We’re not celebrating Saint Patrick’s day.”

“But- but, it says here in this book-” and where did she even pull that out from? “That in Ireland-”

“No,” Quinn cut in smoothly. Then snatched the book right out of her hands.

Hadley frowned. “It’s supposed to be fun, Quinn,” she said, stomping her foot. She adjusted her hat so it sat at more of an angle.

“And I said no,” he said lowly. “End of story.”

“But I already bought the beer!” she kicked the case at her feet, scowling.

“Already bought the- Hadley, where did you even _get_ that?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, if you _must_ know,” she said crossly, “I hacked the beer stores main system, then I pulled the fire alarm, and then I snuck into the air ducts, and _then-”_

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Quinn interrupted, holding up a hand, “because no you didn’t. So why don’t we try this again. How did you get the beer?”

“Zach bought it for me,” she admitted. “But I _could_ have done all that. You know, if I’d had the time.”

Quinn groaned. That idiot. He’d deal with him later. But for now…

“And the rest? Where did all this,” he gestured wildly, “come from?”

“Oh, the stuff? Well, with great money comes great responsibility to buy in bulk. And Walmart sells everything.”

Seeing as _that_ little nugget of wisdom didn’t come from him, he found there was only one remaining culprit. Another issue he’d have to deal with later.

“I’m not even going to ask about the gold,” Quinn muttered. Then let out a slow breath.

“Putting aside this foolishness for a minute, the reason we will not be celebrating is because-” He held up a finger when Hadley opened her mouth to object “Because it is a tasteless holiday that plays on Irish stereotypes. Frankly, I see it as an insult.”

Hadley’s mouth formed a wide ‘O’, before she nodded emphatically. “Okay.”

Quinn let out a sigh of relief as she removed the ghastly hat, the jacket, various other accessories, and chucked them back into the shopping bag from whence they came.

He probably should have felt a little guilty for lying to the kid, if not for the reason why. He never used to have a problem with Saint Patrick’s day. He used to go all out actually, in his younger years. But now… he shuddered. Best if Hadley never discovered the real reason he shunned the holiday. And if Zachary knew what was good for him, he’s keep his infernal trap _shut_. If Quinn never laid eyes on the colour green again, it would be too soon.

“But if we flip to this page here-”

Quinn’s expression morphed into one of disbelief. How had she gotten the book back while he was still holding it?

“-this also looks like a respectable Irish holiday...”

The exasperated groan could be heard through the entire apartment.


	8. Snow

 

 

Goosebumps prickled her arms as Hadley took in her surroundings, breathing in the crisp winter air. Eyes wide with wonder, she couldn’t help but admire how _white_ everything was. Barefoot, she stepped off the porch right into the fresh blanket of snow. She squealed as her toes squished into the freezing ice crystals. She took one more step, then another, and suddenly she was dancing and twirling, arms held out and giggling.

The splendour was rudely interrupted by the weight of a heavy coat nearly toppling her over. Regaining her balance, she glared at the culprit.

Quinn shrugged. “It’s cold.” He then unrepentantly flung a matching pair of boots at her head. Hadley just barely dodged, her triumph brief when she tripped and fell over in her attempt. She shot back to her feet, spitting out mouthfuls of snow.

“Quinn!” she huffed. Her breath came out in little white puffs. He merely raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to do something about it. She stuck her tongue out as she pulled the coat on. Anymore retaliation was just asking for it, and Hadley wanted to explore. Scooping up the furry boots, she prepared to do just that.

“Hadley.”

She glanced back at him warily. Quinn snorted.

“When you’re done, help me grab the rest of the stuff.” She relaxed, humming in agreement. Turned back to the endless field of white. Should she build a snowman? Maybe an igloo, she’d seen people do that on TV. Couldn’t be that difficult. Hadley felt eyes on her, and she looked back again. Sure enough, Quinn was still on the porch, flat expression betrayed by dancing blue eyes. Hadley grinned. Maybe he wanted to play. She bounded up to him in exaggerated leaps, kicking up snow as she went. She stopped just short of the stairs.

“Snow is fun! We should’ve come to Alaska sooner.”

Quinn leaned back onto the railing, eyes trailing up to the sky. “Never any need to.”

He cleared his throat, turning his attention back to her. And a smile crept onto his face. “But I’m glad you’re having fun now.”

Hadley fell back a step, uncertain. Such an uncharacteristic expression could only spell bad news. It was unnerving.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Quinn chuckled lowly, smile growing. “We’re spending the next few weeks here for training.”

Hadley sucked in a breath, confusion swiftly replaced by a convenient store of terror. Any and all protests about to fall from her lips was cut off by a snowball to the face, followed by maniacal laughter.


	9. Hope

 

 

They were calling for her again. Hollering her name from the other side of the house, expecting her to obey like a trained dog. That’s how it always was. Come, girl. Sit. Roll over. The works. She was expecting the training whistle any day now. But Hadley wasn’t a dog. And she refused to fold.

“Girl! Where are you!”

A shrill voice shrieked up the stairs. And Hadley’s heart started to race. She had to run, had to get away. But there was no time. So she’d have to hide. She rolled under the bed just as a pair of heels clacked their way into the room. The house matron’s cheap perfume wafted into the already stale air. Hadley held her breath.

“Stupid girl,” she spat. “When I find you, you’re going to pay dearly.”

Hadley didn’t move. She didn’t particularly want to find out what _that_ meant. She still remembered the last punishment, and suppressed a shudder. Cheryl could be a nasty woman when she wanted to be. It felt like an eternity before the self-proclaimed ‘lady of the house’ angrily click clacked away.

Hadley rolled onto her back, staring blankly at the underside of the bed. After nearly six months here, you’d think the house matron would deign to remember her name. but no, it was always ‘girl’ with her. If Hadley had any sort of attachment to this dump, maybe she’d care. At most, it was mildly vexing. As it was, she spent all her time avoiding her Cheryl and her foster siblings.

Being in the system sucked, and Hadley had had her fair share of doozies. After being shuffled around so much, it was pretty much inevitable. But this particular home… she wouldn’t hesitate to call it the worst arrangement to date.

Cheryl was the head honcho here. Bossy, pretentious. Foster children were convenient slaves to her. And she drank up every second of it. If that were the only issue, Hadley could surely handle it. But their matron was doing- _things_ \- in the basement. And although Hadley was only 7, and she didn’t know exactly what was being cooked down there, it was clear that it was far from legal. On top of that, Cheryl had the other children assisting her dirty operation. Worse, they seemed to _like_ it. Hadley shuddered. She’d manage to evade them so far, but how long could that last for? She had to get out of here. And soon.

Carefully sliding herself out, Hadley made a beeline towards the stairs. It wouldn’t be long until Cheryl sent up the muscle. She crept up the stairs slowly, wincing every time they creaked. The attic was Hadley’s go-to hideout. The cramped space was perfect for someone as small as her.

Rapidly approaching footsteps had Hadley scampering up the stairs like a frightened mouse. She wasted no time slipping into an old wardrobe, muffling a cough from the excess of dust.  The hinges were badly rusted, preventing the door from closing all the way. Should she switch spots?

“Where are you?” a male voice sang maliciously. Too late. Reinforcements had arrived. So, she’d sent up Mike. The eldest foster kid here at 13, Mike was a walking stereotype. He was big, he was mean, and, luckily for her, not too bright.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are~” Mike continued, walking around the overcrowded attic slowly. Hadley bit her lip. _Go away, go away, go away-_

“I can’t find her!” he bellowed, before stampeding back down the stairs. Hadley’s breath came out in a whoosh. She crouched down, twisting into a more comfortable position, peering through the crack in the door. Weak sunlight filtered through a cloudy window. Hadley’s head thunked back against wood. She’d be here for a while.

Hadley wondered, not for the first time, if this was all there was. If this was the path her life was destined to take. Transferred from foster home to foster home, it was always the same. She never quite fit, never belonged. Always denied that ‘forever family’. And realistically, how long could she keep doing this? Even if she managed to escape this house, there would simply be another one waiting. And she was so tired. Tired of fighting for a future she wasn’t sure existed. She couldn’t keep this up forever. Not alone. She needed an ally, someone to stand by her side in a world far too unkind.

Hours passed, and Hadley dozed lightly on and off. Watched the shadows trail across the room as the sun set, and the world grew dark. Was it safe to return to her room? She whimpered when her stomach growled furiously. Right. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. A kitchen raid then? Just something small to settle her stomach.

Clambering out of the wardrobe, Hadley stretched out stiff limbs before slowly making her way downstairs. The house was silent, but that didn’t mean Hadley could let her guard down. Upon reaching the second set of stairs, she meticulously avoided the hole made by an enraged Mike last month. And then frowned. It was too quiet. She could hear the ancient grandfather clock ticking rhythmically from here, but nothing else. Not even the TV. That was never a good sign. Hackles raised, Hadley peeked around the corner into the living room. And her heart skipped a beat or three.

The room was painted red. Puddles soaking into the carpet, slashed across the tacky paintings Cheryl insisted were ‘tasteful’. Hadley wanted to gag. Because more than that were the bodies.

Cheryl herself lay in the centre, splayed out across the floor. Her head rested in a puddle of blood, and her mouth was open for one last scream. Positioned artfully around her, like a morbid painting, lay the still figures of her foster siblings. Mike’s eyes were still open, staring right at her. George looked like he was sleeping, save for the neat hole in his forehead. And Margie… tear tracks stained her face, her throat slit open. Moonlight illuminated the bloody massacre for a clearer picture. It was almost poetic.

Hadley’s eyes bulged as she tried to absorb the scene laid out before her. She dragged her gaze upwards, to see a man dressed all in black, standing in the middle of the carnage. He held a dripping dagger at his side. And then he turned around, electric blue eyes piercing right through her.

Hadley’s hands unclenched, her heart slowing to it’s regular pace. So this was it. this was how she died. A little more dramatic than expected. Her eyes dulled, and she let her arms fall limp to her sides. Watched him expectantly. But the man hadn’t so much as flinched in her direction. Instead he chose to study her. Contemplating. Hadley stared right back. She couldn’t read the emotion in his chilly eyes, but there was no scenario where Hadley lived to see the sunrise. He couldn’t leave witnesses.

The man cocked his head to the side, almost curiously. Waiting. For what, Hadley couldn’t say. For her to scream? For her to plead for her life, as she was sure her foster family had done? Her jaw tightened stubbornly. Well, he’d be waiting a long time. If she was to die today, she’d do so with dignity, not snivelling like a child.

So when the man held out a gloved hand, Hadley was understandably confused. She eyed that hand, stained with the blood of her ‘family’, possibly countless others. He raised an eyebrow at her. An invitation, then? A question, with only one answer.

Hadley stepped forward.


	10. White

 

 

Quinn wasn’t sure what to expect when he received the call from Hadley’s school. It had certainly never happened before, because the blonde knew to stay under the radar. It was dangerous to draw attention to herself, considering their unique situation. What she’d done to have the principal call him in, Quinn wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

His brow furrowed as he took in the red bricked building. The grounds were well taken care of, bushes neatly trimmed, lawn freshly cut. Overall an ideal place to gain an education. A few students lounged outside the school, chattering amongst themselves. Likely waiting on their parents to collect them.

Quinn ignored their curious looks as he headed straight through the double doors into the main foyer, glancing at the map briefly before efficiently navigating through the narrow hallways. He came to a halt in front on the principals office.

He spotted Hadley right away, seated in a cheap plastic chair. She was swinging her legs idly, humming to herself. Beside her sat another student, her mouth turned down into a nasty scowl. The reason why was abundantly clear. Auburn tresses were streaked with white paint, hanging in clumps. Further inspection revealed paint caked to her uniform, splattered over shiny black shoes. And there were feathers _everywhere._ It was impressive work, really.

Quinn cleared his throat. Hadley glanced up, eyes twinkling with delight. He gestured to the girl with his eyes. Hadley just shrugged innocently and resumed humming cheerfully. Further prodding would have to wait though, Quinn mused, as the door to the office swung open. A thin wiry man eyed Quinn suspiciously, before gesturing him in with the crook of a finger. Quinn sighed. Time to get this over with.

Quinn sat down in a hard chair with a bored expression. He lounged back lazily, watching the principal expectantly. The man looked easily frightened, like a mouse in a cage. Cleared his throat authoritatively. Oh, here we go.

“Do you know what your daughter has done?” he said sternly.

“I suspect you’re about to tell me,” Quinn said.

The principal narrowed his eyes. “That girl is a representation of everything this school is _not._ She has destroyed the reputation of an upstanding student, creating a mountain of issues and-”

It was at this point that Quinn tuned the man out. He nodded at the appropriate times as the principal droned on and on and _on._ Quinn suspected he just enjoyed the sound of his own voice. He got the gist of it, at least. Basically, the uppity little princess pissed Hadley off, and the blonde retaliated.

“Moreover, your daughter-”

“I will ensure Hadley understands the consequences of her actions,” Quinn cut in smoothly. The man looked annoyed at the interruption, but nodded stiffly.

“See that you do.”

And Quinn was finally free. But Hadley wouldn’t be.

“Hadley.” Quinn jerked his head. She popped out of her chair like a wound up jack in the box, smiling arrogantly. She skipped after him, but not before waggling her fingers at the paint clad girl still sitting there. The girl sneered at her.

Once outside and breathing in the warm spring air, Quinn stopped Hadley with a hand to the shoulder. She pulled a lollipop out of her pocket, popping it in her mouth. She was grinning from ear to ear. Time to burst her bubble.

 “I don’t know why you look so pleased with yourself. You’re in for an unpleasant surprise, kid.”

Hadley frowned. “She deserved it,” she said, pulling the candy from her mouth. Chocolate brown eyes were ablaze with frustration. “And I’m not sorry.”

The lack of remorse was astounding. Truly. Quinn smirked. “I don’t care what she did, or why you felt the need to enact revenge.”

“Then why-”

“Your training is being doubled for the next two weeks.” Quinn held up a finger when she opened her mouth to protest. “I thought I taught you better than that. Getting caught by that greasy little man? For shame.”

Hadley’s jaw dropped. “I’m being punished because _I got caught_?”

Quinn’s smile only grew as he ushered her into their rental car.

“I hope you don’t value sleep too much. You’re in for a rough couple of weeks.”

Hadley bit through her lollipop with a resounding crack.


	11. Dance

 

 

Zach munched on a corndog, frowning at his phone. Willed the information to go away, because it wasn’t wanted here, no sir. Then sighed. Quinn was not going to like this. But he’d be even more pissed off if Zach kept it to himself. Zach polished off the corndog, sliding his phone into his pocket. Then set off to the daunting task of navigating the overly huge house. Rich people, honestly.

Quinn had some weird obsession with mansions. Abandoned or not, surely there were better options for a temporary base. It was possible he still harboured an unconscious attachment to his past, but no way would Zach be questioning him about it. He valued his life too much. Whatever the reason, he was getting real tired of wandering aimlessly through the endless hallways. Now, if he were a grumpy Irish assassin, where would he be…?

Muffled laughter, followed by an annoyed shout had Zach backtracking until he saw a pair of heavyset doors. Shrugging, he slammed them open dramatically. And then grinned at the sight. Watching Hadley get under Quinn’s skin was primetime entertainment. The news could wait a few minutes.

“What are we up to today?” Zach asked, voice echoing through the empty ballroom.

Hadley was sat on the floor, typical sunny smile etched into her delicate face. Quinn was glaring down at her. He looked especially cranky, much like the crotchety old woman who used to live down the street from Zach. She was always yelling about hooligans, and her lawn, and something about eggs. Well. Probably best not to mention the comparison to Quinn.

Hadley’s attention snapped over to Zach, and she waved enthusiastically as he walked over.

“Quinn’s teaching me to dance,” she informed him cheerfully. Then she pulled her face into a glower, bunching her eyebrows together comically. “For training purposes of course,” she said gruffly. A solemn moment passed, and then Hadley busted into giggles. Quinn rolled his eyes skyward.

“It _is_ for training purposes,” Quinn grumbled. “It’s supposed to help with balance and dexterity, and _clearly_ it’s not going well.”

“So I see, “ Zach said, suppressing an amused grin.

Quinn growled, throwing his hands up. “If a certain blonde listened when I spoke, this wouldn’t be half as frustrating.”

Hadley just blinked up at him innocently. And Zach watched Quinn lose his composure, jaw dropping. And he pointed with a trembling finger. “You’re messing up on purpose, you brat!”

“Who me?” Hadley gasped, placing a hand over her heart. “I would _never._ ” The dangerous quirk to her lips told a different story. Quinn’s eyes narrowed for a moment, before he let out a slow breath. Any semblance of emotion drained from his face, leaving only a blank slate. The room seemed to drop a few degrees. Zach took a step back. Hadley squeaked, scrambling to her feet. She gave Zach a helpless look. He held his hands up, shaking his head. No way was he getting dragged into this. She turned back to a dangerously calm Quinn, backing up slowly.

“Quinn, Quinn, I was just screwing around! Don’t kill me, I’m too young to die!” Hadley bolted past Zach, straight for the double doors.

And Quinn. Zach could see him counting down in an attempt to cool his temper. Saw the moment he failed. And then Quinn darted after the mischievous blonde, not even sparing Zach a glance as he shot by.

And then Zach was alone. His boisterous laugh echoed through the deserted ballroom. Never a dull moment with those two. He was still chuckling as he made his way to the doors. And then cursed. He still had to tell Quinn the news. And now he had to find his way through the mansion, _again_.


	12. Coffee

 

 

 

Hadley had never been a morning person. She was certain the intense dislike was ingrained somewhere in her genetics. How else could she go to sleep at a reasonable time and still wake as angry as a provoked grizzly bear? However many hours she managed to accumulate, a chipper Hadley in the morning simply didn’t exist in the realm of possibility. Her sour mood only worsened by the overwhelming stench of coffee every morning. They stocked the stuff in bulk, because without his daily caffeine, Quinn was a right beast in the morning.

Eyes drooping, Hadley slinked into the kitchen, sleepily grabbing a box of cereal off the top of the fridge. Milk and spoon acquired soon after, Hadley plopped into a chair. Yawning, she squinted bleary eyes at Quinn in disgust.

“How do you drink that stuff?”

Quinn didn’t look up from his coffee, stirring it slowly.

“It’s an acquired taste,” he said shortly. Hadley continued to eye the beverage in distaste. Quinn glanced up. “I’m sure you’ll understand when you’re older.”

At that comment, Hadley’s mood blackened even further. She puffed up her cheeks indignantly. How she hated that saying. Why was it that you always had to be older to understand anything? And how old was older anyways? Surely she was old enough to know now. And she would prove it.

Hadley stood up abruptly, chair scraping noisily on the linoleum floor. She pointedly ignored Quinn’s bemused look. And she marched right up to the coffee machine. Studying it for a moment, she grabbed a mug before confidently punching in the same buttons she’d seen Quinn press a million times before. Soon enough, she had her very own mug of the steaming concoction. She wrinkled her nose at the smell, but still smiled triumphantly at Quinn. An amused smirk played at his lips, and he gave her a half-hearted thumbs up.

She sniffed disinterestedly before sliding back into her chair. She set the mug down in front of her cereal. It didn’t look any better up close. She glared into the murky depths.

“One usually drinks the coffee, rather than challenge it to a stare-down,” Quinn piped up helpfully. Hadley redirected her glare.

“I know that!” she snapped. She snatched up the mug, taking a large sip. Her eyes watered, her tongue thoroughly scalded. And she promptly spat the brew back into the ceramic cage from whence it came.

“That’s disgusting!” Hadley said, pushing the mug as far away from her as her short arms would allow. “It tastes like swamp water! You drink this goop every day?”

Quinn choked on a laugh. “Well, typically,” Quinn said, chortling around his own cup of coffee, “people tend to add milk and sugar to their ‘swamp water’. Few people prefer it black.”

Hadley’s eyes widened. “You-you! You did that on purpose! Didn’t you?” Hadley accused. Her face felt hot. Quinn shrugged, not offering a reply. He returned to his coffee with a poorly concealed grin.

The remainder of breakfast that morning consisted of Hadley shooting Quinn the stink-eye between aggressive spoonfuls of cornflakes.


	13. Pattern

 

 

Hadley’s observed Quinn’s uncharacteristic behaviour knowingly. So the cycle was repeating once again. But Hadley would have to wait, because Quinn wouldn’t tell until he was ready. Hadley recognized the recurring signs almost immediately. For a renowned assassin, Quinn could certainly be predictable at times. Because it was always the same pattern, time after time, the same old song and dance.

A week before, Quinn started getting antsy. He’d glance at Hadley periodically, as if gauging her reaction. He would excuse himself for lengthy phone calls, check the calendar obsessively. And Hadley knew the countdown had begun once again,

A few days before, Quinn would check his weapons. He’d look over them carefully, ensure they were in perfect condition, purchase additional items. Then he’d check them again. He then oh so discreetly dug out his suitcase, packing the essentials in the dead of night.

The day before, Zach presence became more overbearing. Suddenly he was everywhere, sticking close to Hadley with a dopey grin. He’d claim that he didn’t spend enough time with his favourite minuscule blonde, and wasn’t that a crime? But don’t worry, Zach would remedy their tragic situation right away. Hadley could barely suppress the fond eye roll.

The day of, Quinn would finally ‘Break the news to her’. Like it was an expertly concealed secret he would have preferred stayed as such. He had another assignment, he’d say. Nothing big. He’d be gone for a while, a few days maybe. But don’t worry, he’d be back soon, he promised. And she always had fun with Zach, didn’t she? His brow would furrow then. But not too much fun, that moron was a bad influence after all.

Hadley would wait patiently for Quinn to finally take a breath. Allow him to finish his long-winded speech. And every time, she would smile, tell him she understood, it was his job after all. Because she did understand. Really.

The goodbyes were always brief, rushed. Quinn hated to draw that ‘sappy shite’ out. Despite having known about his imminent departure for the entire week, Hadley still felt the uncomfortable storm churning in her stomach. She’d miss him. She’d stare longingly at his back, gnawing on her lower lip. And Quinn would always glance back, just for a moment.

The day of his return, Quinn always brought something back for Hadley. A new weapon, a hair accessory, a useless bauble. An apology, he said, for leaving her for so long with ‘that idiot.’ Zach was always dramatically affronted, shooting Quinn a dirty look, before he sulked off, muttering under his breath. Hadley cherished every gift. But first she’d welcome Quinn home with the brightest smile she could muster, before tackling him into a hug.

It was always the same predictable routine. Quinn never made an effort to change it. He knew that she knew, yet still he kept up the farce. And Hadley never questioned it, never once called him out. Because what could happen if she did? Would it affect their dynamic astronomically, or not at all? Better to keep things the way they were, than to take an unnecessary risk. For now.

Because next time. Next time she’d be strong enough to go with him. She’d prove her worth, she really would. She could be useful if she out her mind to it. And maybe Quinn would ask her to come with him next time. Patterns were meant to be broken, weren’t they?


	14. Fan

 

 

“Heyyy, Quinn!” Hadley’s high pitched voice called from the other side of the house. Quinn set his book down, wondering what trouble the kid had managed to dig her way into this time. He didn’t trust that enthusiastic tone. It usually indicated she was up to something. Something Quinn probably didn’t want to deal with. He stared at the ceiling for a moment longer before forcing himself off the couch. He stretched his limbs languidly, trudging into the next room. Only to see an oversized cardboard box making it’s way through their narrow front door. He crossed his arms, waiting patiently. Hadley grunted with effort as she pushed it further into the house, pink tongue poked out to the side.  A wide smile grew on her face when she finally took notice of an unimpressed Quinn.

Abandoning her task, she skipped up to him cheerfully. “Look what I found!” she sang. Quinn tapped his foot expectantly. “I saw the mail guy outside, and he was delivering this big package, and he had an orange mail truck, I’ve never seen an orange one before, _and_ I got to sign the thingy, _and_ -”

“Take a breath,” Quinn ordered.

“And! It’s addressed to you!” she finished excitedly, before pulling a wrinkled envelope out of her pocket. Sure enough, there was his name in large blocky letters. No return address. He eyed the envelope still held out for him to take. Eyed Hadley. And then scooped her up like a sack of potatoes, making a hasty exit. She squeaked in surprise as he made a break for the park just across the street. She blinked owlishly up at him when he set her down on the freshly trimmed grass.

“Hadley,” Quinn growled irritably, “What made you think bringing that package into the house was a smart idea?”

She shrugged, obviously confused. “The mail man guy said it was for you. Where else was I supposed to put it?”

Quinn pinched the bridge of his nose. Common sense. That’s all he asked for. “Did you ever stop to think about who that package came from? And why?”

Hadley nibbled her lower lip. “Not really.”

Quinn flicked her in the ear. “Hadley, remind me again what I do for a living.”

“I’m not supposed to say,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Indulge me just this once.”

She motioned for him to lean down. Rolling his eyes, Quinn acquiesced. “You kill annoying people, right?” she whispered conspiratorially into his ear. Quinn sighed, straightening back up. Close enough.

He narrowed his eyes at her. “So if a strange package from an unknown sender arrives, when no one should have knowledge of my location, tell me again what you’re supposed to do with it.”

Her mouth formed a wide ‘O’ in her moment of clarity. “So it’s probably something bad then, right?”

“Unfortunately that is the most likely of conclusions,” Quinn agreed. Then stooped to pick up the envelope laying in the grass. He slipped his fingers under the flap, sliding the slip of paper out fluidly. It only contained a short note.

_Hope this gift really blows you away._

_\- your biggest fan_

 

Quinn squinted at the note warily, before remembering there was still a suspicious box sitting in the entryway of their house. Damn. He still had to deal with that.

“Okay, kid,” Quinn said suddenly. Hadley snapped to attention like a well-trained soldier. “I’m going back inside the house to deal with our latest issue. You, on the other hand, are going to wait outside. Got it?”

“But-”

“Got it?” Quinn repeated sternly. Hadley pouted, but nodded glumly all the same.

So Hadley waited on the porch while Quinn went to investigate. He circled the box, scanning for any sign of foul play. It was unassuming as could be. The only way to solve the mystery was to open it. Unsheathing a knife from his pocket, Quinn made quick work of the box.

“Unbelievable.”

Standing before him was an electric fan. He resisted the urge to facepalm. A gag gift. But why? Contemplating this for a moment, the fan started to tick. His eyes widened, and Quinn was launching into action. His heart rate picked up as he threw the tiny blonde over his shoulder for the second time that day. Once he deemed them far enough, he felt the explosion shake the ground, and the house went up in flames.

“Wow.” Hadley said, watching in fascination.

He didn’t know how, or who, or why even. Quinn did know, however, that somehow this had to be connected to Zach. Shit like this somehow always traced back to Zach. And now he’d have another murder on his record once he got to the bottom of whatever Zach had done _this_ time. That idiot.

 

 

 


	15. Captive(1)

 

 

Hadley knew all about beginnings. The amount of times she’d been made to start anew were numerous, each time worse than the last. Until one lead to a break in the clouds, a light in the shadows. But the thing with beginnings, is they usually go hand in hand with endings. As it was, Hadley was in a hazy in-between middle state. But her ending was looking grimmer by the minute.

It was dark, and she was cold, no matter how tightly she curled into herself. She huddled as far back into her chosen corner as she could manage. The tiny room was barren, save for a collection of yellowing newspapers and a boarded up window that offered little light. Water seeped in from a dirty cracked ceiling, a steady _drip drip drip_ that could drive a person to insanity. The room itself was a form of torture, devised in such a way as to break her mind until she gave up information. Information she didn’t have, as she’d pleaded several times, but still they persisted.

Heavy footsteps wandered outside her isolated cell, the sound penetrating after such a long period of silence. Hadley tensed when they came to a stop right in front of the heavy door. Dread grew and festered, settling deep with her gut. Prayers were useless, she knew this well enough. She stiffened further when the door creaked open slowly.

Hadley forced her body into a state of relaxation, wiped her face clean into a slate as blank as paper. Just as she’d been taught. Never allow them to see your fear. Let them see no tears, no anger. No emotion. It was rule number one. Hadley wouldn’t forget it. Not again.

Several long moments passed, and no one entered. More mind games then. Hadley wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. She pushed herself up into a wobbly stance, wincing when she twinged her injured leg. It look raw and angry, well on it’s way to a serious infection. She’d wrapped it as best as she could, with what limited supplies she had. But scraps of her clothes only went so far. She hobbled forward hesitantly, the door still swung wide open. Almost there, if she could just get a glimpse-

Hadley nearly toppled over when the door slammed shut forcefully, along with what little hope she’d had for even a clue to possible escape. Harsh laughter followed soon after, fading as her captor walked off. She bit her lip and she made her way back to the corner. She wouldn’t cry. Refused to give him the satisfaction.

She slumped back down against the wall, careful to keep weight off her leg. She traced her fingers along crude tally marks along the wall, a half-hearted attempt at keeping track of how many days she’d been imprisoned. How many days it would take Quinn to find her. It proved to be futile, in the end. She was no longer sure how many days, or weeks. Had it been weeks? Perception of time was skewed after countless trips to _the room_.

She’d been taken there, to that white room, more times than she remember. Colours stood out vibrantly in such a pristine room. Red had never seemed so bright before. Each trip seemed worse than the last. She recalled the pain, the fear, the screams, and no salvation in sight. Time seemed to go on forever, yet remain at a standstill all at once. An infinite pain loop. Every time, she wasn’t sure she’d survive her next visit. But every time, she did.

She’d had endless faith in Quinn, because he was coming for her. He would get her out of here, she was sure of it. Her belief was unwavering. But as time stretched on, doubt seeped in. And Hadley wondered, maybe Zach was right from the beginning. She was a burden, a hindrance, she was holding Quinn back from his true potential. She wasn’t meant for this life. Maybe this was for the best after all. Quinn would be better off, and Zach would be happy to be rid of her.

She curled into the fetal position, nestling into her makeshift bed of newspaper. She could escape through sleep, if only for a little while. She’d just close her eyes for a minute. Her eyes slid shut.

Quinn hadn’t wanted her in the first place. She was the result of a moment of pity, because he had human moments too. He made mistakes, same as anyone else.

Her eyes snapped open. Because that couldn’t be true. Quinn wouldn’t do that, she knew he wouldn’t. He would come for her. And until then, she refused to die here. Because he would come. Right?

The door slammed into the wall with a loud bang. The sudden onslaught of light was blinding. Heavy boots stepped slowly into the room. Hadley scrambled up into a sitting position, just in time for a lewd smile to come into view. Her eyes widened. Gloved hands reached for her. An earth shattering scream ripped from her throat.

And the ending grew closer still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of a mini arc of sorts. Still hopelessly out of order, but it'll conclude soon enough. Probably.


	16. Watch

 

 

Zach frowned, watching the unlikely pair intensely. Watched the tender care Quinn took when dealing with the tiny nuisance, the softening of his eyes when he believed no one to be looking. It was wrong. This wasn’t Quinn, that brat was changing him. Why he thought it was an intelligent idea to bring a kid home in the first place was beyond him. They were just inviting trouble. Trouble they didn’t need, with how complicated their lives already were.

Zach’s toothpick snapped forcefully in his hand. First impression of the girl? An irritant. An unnecessary burden.

And yet-

“You’re different with her, Q.”

Quinn looked up from the dagger he was sharpening, eyebrow raised. Zach quickly backtracked, hands raised up in surrender.

“I’m not saying it’s a _bad_ thing exactly.” Except that’s exactly what he was saying. “I’m just saying that maybe it would have been best if- stop looking at me like that!” Zach suddenly regretted saying anything at all.

Quinn stood up fluidly, jamming the blade into the wooden desk. He grabbed Zach by the collar, effortlessly slamming him against a bookcase. Dust flew in all directions, and several books toppled to the floor.

“Then what exactly _are_ you saying, Zachary?” Quinn’s tone was flat, inflectionless. That’s how Zach knew he was in trouble. He knew he should back down, if he valued his life. But Quinn needed to hear this. Steeling his gaze, Zach tried to look as intimidating as a man in his position possibly could. Even if his legs were currently dangling an inch off the ground.

Zach promptly reversed their positions, striking a pressure point. Quinn’s grip loosened, and Zach aimed a fist at his face. Quinn reacted, avoiding the punch with a hasty step back. Zach took the opportunity to slip a blade out of his pocket, pointing it shakily in Quinn’s direction.

“Q, just listen to me for a sec! What are you even gonna do with a kid, huh? What prompted you to even-”

Quinn knocked the knife out of Zach’s hand before delivering a heavy handed punch to the gut. Zach doubled over, stumbling over his feet before crashing into the rickety bookshelf. It toppled over on impact, and Zach moved out of the way just in time to avoid a world of splinters. Coughing, he wobbled to his feet, only to recoil at the sight of a truly pissed off assassin.

“Don’t talk shit about her. You know _nothing_.” And with that parting remark, Quinn swept out of the study. Zach stared after him, nursing sore ribs. Well. That went well. Note to self: avoid all future tussles with angry Irishmen.

Seeing as Quinn had no intention of ridding themselves of their newest little problem, Zach would have to approach the girl himself. She should prove easier to manipulate.

Zach observed the girl for a few days. Quinn was currently giving him the silent treatment, but he seemed to light right up around the brat. Awkward, sure, because he was clearly unused to dealing with children. But he seemed happy. Happier than Zach had seen him in years. Like he had purpose again.

Zach waited a few days until Quinn was forced to leave the house to run an errand of sorts. Zach was unsure what it was, because he wasn’t listening. But it gave him the perfect opportunity to finally interact with the kid. Zach wrinkled his nose. The girl offered him a hesitant smile when he approached. Zach glowered down at her. Time to set the brat straight.

-was his intention. Somehow, and Zach was unsure how they’d gotten from point A to point B, but somehow he found himself watching a movie with the kid. She’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, breathing softly. Within the last two hours, Zach had gone from loathing to protective adoration. Black magic. It must have been. Clearly, the girl was a witch. And he was now putty in her tiny witch hands.

Zach glanced up as Quinn walked in. He took in the scene before shooting Zach a smug look. Zach’s mouth tasted sour. He hated apologizing.


	17. Adorable

 

 

 

The elderly woman couldn’t help but notice a young father toting his small daughter around. The girl was staring up at him in utter adoration as he perused the shelves of the grocery store. She thought it was very sweet of him to take the girl on a family outing. So much so, that she couldn’t resist the urge to commend him for spending quality time with his adorable daughter. People ought to be made aware of these things. In her old age, she’d gained much life experience, and knew there was nothing more important than family. Quinn wasn’t sure why the old lady felt the need to approach him and instill her entirely unwarranted opinion. He smiled politely, gritting his teeth, and muttered a low thank you before hastily tugging Hadley into the next aisle. This kid, adorable? Quinn scoffed, prying a bag of candy out of her hands. More like a little blonde horror.

* * *

 

The middle age mom of three had lived in the suburban community for well over a decade when the new neighbours moved in. They were a quiet family, kept to themselves. She really didn’t know much about them. But she often saw an older boy with what was surely his younger sister. The girl would happily trail after him, hanging onto his every word. She wanted to squeal like a teenage girl when she saw the two together. They were just so cute! If only her own kids were like that. Walking past them just that morning, she couldn’t stop herself from commenting on what a diligent, kind older brother the boy was, and how truly adorable his sister was. Quinn eyed the woman, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Adorable? Try annoying. Hadley was especially clingy, making it difficult to form new contracts. He found himself pawning her off on Zach more often these days.

* * *

 

Zach thought it was adorable how much Quinn doted on Hadley. And then pretended that that wasn’t what he was doing. Gotta keep up that unflinching stoic reputation after all. Against his better judgement, Zach told him as much.

“It’s cute how you look out for her. You’re so meticulous about the upkeep of her weaponry, I’d almost believe you really cared about her.” Zach waggled his eyebrows, grinning.

Quinn’s heated glare could melt an iceberg. “Because if the kid dies due to faulty equipment, it’s _my_ fault. Then not only would I have an unnecessary death on my conscience, but a body to dispose of. More trouble than it’s worth.”

Quinn pointedly ignored the knowing looks Zach kept shooting at him. Adorable? Quinn snorted derisively. Adorable his pale Irish backside

* * *

 

Supposedly, according to the vast majority of mass media, sleeping children were “just the most adorable thing!” Quinn begged to differ. He glance at a slumbering Hadley. All he could see was a drooling menace somehow managing to take up the entire bed and then some, limbs stretched out every which way like soggy noodles. A sleeping demon yet to wake up from its hibernation. Adorable? Right. A terrifying little hellion, more like.

* * *

 

Quinn observed Hadley’s training session with an experienced eye. Watched the arc of her punches, how much power she put into every strike. The worn punching bag was taking a pretty hefty beating from such tiny fists. Quinn adjusted an elbow here, a misplaced foot there. But overall, he was content to stand back and take mental notes on her progress. Training was one of the rare times Hadley’s focus was at an all time high, her focus unwavering. Quinn’s lips curved upwards. Her delicate face was scrunched up, sweat pooling at her brow as she hit the bag again and again. The kid was making steady progress. Quinn had to admire her work ethic, that undying will, her burning desire to better herself. And this time, Quinn could admit it. All that, paired with those stupid faces she made? Nothing short of adorable.


	18. Red

 

 

Quinn remembered the first time he killed someone. It haunted his dreams, tormented him during his waking hours. He couldn’t say he was surprised, considering who his first target was. He’d sworn to himself, never again would he take on an assignment so personal. Assassination was a tricky occupation, a cold merciless business not meant to be mixed with emotions and sentimentalities. This was a lesson he kept close at hand, one he’d had to learn the hard way. But it was that first kill that led Quinn to this path, this life from which there was no turning back.

Though he now took to planning meticulously, that was not the case with the first kill. As with most firsts, Quinn’s was quick and dirty, and boy was it ever sloppy. He hadn’t the time to plot, to exercise caution. He’d just dived right in. And he would never forget. The blood, there was so much blood. It was unavoidable, dripping from his knife, soaking into his clothes. It ran down his fingers, seeped into the crevices of his skin. So red, it was so red, it didn’t look real, couldn’t be real. His hands were tainted, stained. Murder weapons in their own right.

Upon escaping, he ran blindly into the night, scrubbing his hands raw. The freezing river water stung, but he had to get it off, it was under his fingernails, get it off, _get it off-_

The blood went hand in hand with the screams. Chased after him as he fled, stumbled, kept running, had to keep running. He could still hear them echoing in the caverns of his mind, rattling around in his brain. They screeched, they wailed, they _howled._ There was no escape, no escape-

A high pitched scream had Quinn jolting out of a fitful sleep. He felt cold, his skin was clammy. A crash sounded, soon followed by heavy thumping. Quinn allowed his heart to slow before scrubbing a weary hand down his stubbled face, rolling out of bed.

Yawning widely, the first thing he saw was a breathless Hadley, booking it down the hallway like her trousers were on fire. She was glancing back frantically, cradling a carton of- Quinn squinted. Strawberries? Inevitably, with the sheer lack of attention paid, Hadley rammed into his legs. Her eyes widened upon contact. She fell backwards with a soft ‘oof’, strawberries rolling about every which way.

“Quinn! You’re awake! Zach said we should start taking bets.”

Of course he had. He expected nothing less from that monkey.

“My strawberries!” Hadley cried mournfully.

Quinn rolled his eyes, holding his hand out. “I’ll buy you some new ones.”

Her face lit up. “Okay~” she reached up. And Quinn froze. Her hands… Red, so red, stained, coated, tainted, blood blood _blood_. So much like his own. His heart pounded, his pulse deafening.

“You little gremlin, get back here!” Quinn wrenched his eyes away, breathing out shakily as Zach scrambled into the narrow hallway. He swallowed forcefully, willing his heart to slow. Then gave Zach a look, nodding down at Hadley stiffly. Zach frowned, following his line of sight.

“Ahh, yes. I take it you want to know why the child is such a mess.” Zach shook his head in disappointment. “So sticky, this one.”

Hadley giggled. Quinn’s eye twitched.

“Well, you see,” Zach began, “the kid was bugging me. I was minding my business, and she comes crying to me. ‘I’m _bored_ , Zach, play with me!” his voice went up an octave.

“I don’t sound like that,” Hadley stated matter-of-factly.

“You do, actually, but that point is moot. So, I told her, if you find us something fun to do, I’ll play with you. So off she skips-”

“Get to the bloody point, Zachary,” Quinn urged impatiently.

Zach sighed dramatically. “No one appreciates a good story these days.” Then he smirked. “Long story short, we were making jam, which, as you can see,” he gestured at Hadley, “didn’t go so well.”

“Which somehow led to this spectacle?”

Zach shrugged. “The kid googled ‘fun things to do’, and lo and behold, jam making held a pretty high spot on the list.” Zach grinned wickedly. “Then I got bored.”

“You got bored,” Quinn deadpanned.

“He started eating my strawberries!” Hadley screeched.

Zach started laughing. “And then she screamed at me and took off with the strawberries. And now here we are!”

Quinn heaved a weighted sigh. “Why must you do these things, Zachary.”

Zach snickered, popping a strawberry in his mouth.

“I’ll be dealing with you later, you stupid monkey,” Quinn warned, narrowing his eyes.

Zach took a swift step back. “And on that note, look at the time,” he said, flashing his naked wrist. “Gotta go!” And he took off at breakneck speed.

Quinn just shook his head, glancing down at Hadley. She was picking up fallen strawberries, nose scrunched up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Quinn said. He scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She squawked, squirming around.

He couldn’t bear to see those hands again. The dream was too fresh, he could still smell the blood. And he couldn’t let her know, couldn’t subject her to that. He was meant to be the protector. And he would protect her. She would never become like him. Would never have to suffer like he did. Quinn would make sure of it.  


	19. Alarm (2)

 

 

“What do you mean, she’s _gone_?”

Quinn couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. Unease roiled in his gut. Zach sucked in a sharp breath.

“I only looked away for a minute, Q, I swear. We were just in the grocery store for Christs sake, she was supposed to be right back!” Zach flopped into the couch cushions, burying his face in his hands. Zach was panicking, plain and simple. His posture was stiff, and he clenched and unclenched his fist as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His raised his head, his eyes darting about.

“Quinn-”

“Don’t.”

Quinn’s sharp tone had an vicious edge of finality. Zach shut up. Only to launch out of his seat and start pacing, muttering to himself. Quinn ignored him. He didn’t have the time or the luxury to worry about a frantic Zach. He needed to think, to analyze the situation at hand carefully. Panic would only serve to cloud his thoughts. And he would need a clear head. But first, he needed information.

Zach was still mumbling, arms waving around like a lunatic. Quinn’s hand snapped out, grabbing his wrist forcefully.

“Zachary. I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Everything you remember. I want every detail you can possibly conjure up in that thick-headed brain of yours.”

It said a lot that Zach didn’t offer any words of protest to the insult, only nodded seriously.

“We were in line to check out. But the kid suddenly remembered she forgot the Frosted Flakes. Ran off before I could say anything, said she’d be right back. She was only supposed to be a minute. Just a minute! But she,” Zach’s voice fell to a whisper, eyes downcast, “she didn’t come back. I gave her another minute. Maybe two. I was annoyed, because how long could it take to find cereal, you know? So I went to look for her. But she was gone! How could she be gone, I’d just seen her! This shit doesn’t happen in real life. I mean it does, but to other people, and-”

Quinn pinched his arm. Hard. “Focus. Do you remember seeing anything weird before that? Anyone suspicious laying about?”

Zach shook his head. Quinn ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Wait, I just thought of something,” Zach said, his eyes lighting up in what could only be called a lightbulb moment. “I can hack the footage. Quinn, I can hack the footage!” he barked out a hysterical laugh, tripping over his feet as he rushed to grab his laptop.

It didn’t take Zach long to pull up the grainy black and white footage. Quinn grit his teeth together. He wanted to shoot someone, wanted to ram his fist into the wall until it bled. His brain was white hot, raging, _seething_. Because someone _took_ her.

Quinn glared at the laptop screen, veteran eyes scanning for tiny details. He watched as a man dressed in a conspicuous amount of black creeped up on the unsuspecting blonde. As he placed a cloth over her face until she went limp in his arms. As he scooped her up, and walked right out the door. No one even batted an eye.

Quinn growled. Someone had taken her. Taken what didn’t belong to them. Someone had a hell of a lot of nerve, and he was going to make them pay. Severely.

Quinn cracked his neck, flexed his fingers. Zach fidgeted in his seat, eyeing Quinn warily. Quinn couldn’t say he blamed him, because he was _livid_. His face must have certainly reflected his foul mood. He smacked Zach roughly upside the head.

“Pull yourself together. And grab your shit. We’re going hunting.”


	20. Sun

 

 

Quinn often found himself comparing Hadley to the sun. While he himself was a creature of the night, the kid was a ray of sunshine. He was made to dwell in the shadows, concealed in the doom and gloom of his existence. But she shone with the light of the sun. Hard on the eyes at times, she was a relentless ball of energy. She burned too hot, too bright. Quinn found the need for a good pair of sunglasses more often than not. Her personality matched the apt comparison, because her mood was always obnoxiously sunny. Yet Quinn found his life was starting to revolve around the tiny nuisance. Always at the forefront of his mind, the kid was a marvel. And an annoyance. A beacon. And a new purpose, a ray of light to brighten Quinn's perspective on life. Truly a sight to behold.

Hadley thought Quinn to be like the moon. She'd been born and raised in the dark, her life a cloudy night with no hope of morning. She'd been resigned to staying in the shadows forever. Until Quinn came along that bloody night, a luminescent path back into the light. Always present in the night sky, shining down for all to see. Guided her out, away from her dreary existence into a better life. A life among the stars, full of splendor and majesty, where she could finally belong, where she could live without fear. And yet, though ever present, he was so far out of reach. Something to be admired, but never kept. For Quinn kept a cold distance at times, never close enough to touch. A view like no other.

Now Zach. Zach didn't have any flowery froufrou poetry to spout about Hadley and Quinn. No artful comparison to draw onto the canvass. They were hopeless idiots, for sure, but that was more of an observation. So completely reliant on the other, for reasons completely their own, yet never quite understanding each other. Quinn needed Hadley to give him a good yank when he fell into one of his sullen moods. To remind him that he had purpose outside of simply killing. To keep him human. Hard as Zach had tried, he was never able to be that person for Quinn. And Hadley. Hadley needed Quinn because without him she was lost. She looked up to him, admired him, wanted to be like him. It was concerning at times, because what kind of a role model would an assassin make? Children were known to be impressionable. Zach was ever so slightly concerned. But the two seemed to click, like reuniting puzzle pieces. Zach was a puzzle piece as well, just somewhere on the other side of the puzzle. Not a direct link, but still necessary to complete the picture. Ah, there was the comparison. Such a genius he was, to paint such a profound image. And such genius ought to be shared. He really should have known better.

"A monkey, with an uneven tan," Quinn decided.

Hadley giggled. "He does have the ears for it, doesn't he?"

"Hey! I'll have you know that my ears are perfectly proportionate for the size of my head!"

"Such a big head too, to house such a tiny brain. Waste of space if you ask me."

Zach glared at Quinn, affronted. And, not for the first time, and surely not the last, wondered how this constant mockery had become his life.


	21. Laugh

 

 

Quinn felt like a total jackass. All day, Hadley had been downcast, in a right doom and gloom sort of mood. So opposite of her normally cheery disposition, it didn't sit right with anyone. And it was all because Quinn was in a bit of a mood himself. He knew he was behaving immaturely, taking it out on her. He was supposed to be the adult here. More than that, he was supposed to be the one with the cool head. Tempering his emotions had always been a walk in the park. He'd grown up in a strict home, after all, stepping out of line had been unacceptable. Yet ever since Hadley had joined their motley trio, he'd had trouble keeping a lid on his emotions. Invasive things, those nasty little buggers. He hated it. But it couldn't be helped.

The kid had been in a great mood this morning. All bright smiles and endless exuberant energy. The day was toiling out the same as usual. It was the sudden musical laughter that had thrown Quinn for a loop. Hadley had only been living with them for a little while, and though her sunny personality was a near constant thing, he'd yet to hear her laugh. The realization hadn't even registered until it happened. It sounded foreign to his ears. Such an occurrence should have been celebrated, because it was a sign she was really finding her place here. A stepping stone. And yet…

Did it have to be because of one of Zach's stupid jokes? Quinn knew it was beyond irrational to feel jealous, but _he'd_ been the one to rescue the kid, hadn't he? He'd given her a home, a place to belong. Zach hadn't even liked her at first, wanted her gone first thing. And yet Hadley had laughed at something he said. It made Quinn feel- well, feelings. Feelings he shouldn't be feeling because he was a cold blooded assassin god damn it. So the jealousy, on top of his frustration for even _being_ jealous in the first place only served to sour Quinn's mood even further. It was maddening, the sway one tiny little girl had over him.

Throughout the course of the day, Quinn had been snapping at Hadley periodically. The hurt and confusion on her face made him feel just a tiny bit guilty. But the annoyance won out, and so he offered no apologies or explanations for his uncharacteristic behaviour. Zach had been shooting him weird looks all day, but Quinn pointedly ignored him.

And he'd just yelled at the kid again. Hadley peered up at him, eyes watering. Oh Jaysus, she couldn't be about to cry. That would really make him a giant arsehole. He reached out a hand, as if to stop her, but she was already halfway down the hall, presumably on her way to her room. Quinn groaned, leaning back in his chair forcefully. Zach eyed him from behind his laptop, having witnessed the entire exchange. Quinn raised an eyebrow. And Zach stood up abruptly, before slamming a heavy hand down on the table, rattling Quinn's coffee mug. It would have been an impressive feat, if Zach's face hadn't contorted in pain as he cradled his abused hand to his chest. He glared at Quinn.

"What is _with_ you? You're not usually this much of an asshole!"

Quinn's eyes widened minutely. How far they had come, when it was Zach who had to defend Hadley from Quinn. But he returned the glare with a scathing one of his own.

"Shut up, Zachary. It doesn't concern you." Quinn calmly took a sip at his cooling coffee, grimacing. Abandoning it, he poked at his half eaten pie sullenly.

"Like hell it doesn't!"

Zach was suddenly inches from his face, jabbing a shaky finger at him. Quinn's reflexes took over before his mind could process. His hand flipped the plate off the table, his pie taking flight. Zach blinked, pastry coating his face. Time seemed to stand still. They both stared at one another in bewildered silence.

Laughter broke the tense atmosphere. Hadley was watching the two of them, grinning ear to ear, unable to contain her giggles. The knot in Quinn's chest loosened and he found himself smiling back. Zach flicked him the ear. Annoyed, Quinn batted his hand away. He knew already. He'd apologize to Hadley, he would. Later.


	22. Flee

 

 

_The trees blurred together into a wall of green and brown as Quinn forced his feet forward, stumbling over roots and fallen branches. He was breathing hard, his limbs hurt, his lungs were on_ fire _. But he had to keep moving. He couldn’t afford to look back, the only way now was forward. But the forest seemed to go on forever, he was no longer sure of what direction he was going. Was there even an end? Perhaps he too had died, and his punishment was to keep running on and on and on and-_

Quinn pushed branches gently to the side, stepping carefully through the dense forest. His heavy boots crunched over dead leaves. He checked his compass once more to be certain of his direction. Birds sang cheerfully, the forest teeming with wildlife. And yet, the closer Quinn got to his destination, the more the air seemed to thicken ominously. He breathed in the crisp autumn breeze. He was close now. Stepping forward, he peeled back another branch to reveal-

_The house was ablaze, and Quinn was watching it burn. The flames crept closer, burning his face, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away. Sirens sounded in the distance, and Quinn knew they were coming. Coming for him. He needed to go. So why were his feet stuck to the ground? As if glued, they refused to budge. He slapped his cheeks, pinched his arms. Had to snap out of it, had to go, move you idiot-_

Quinn walked into a large clearing. A blackened house loomed over him, the remains of what was once a majestic manor. A charred husk was all that was left now. A door squeaked as it swung back and forth in the gentle breeze, hanging off worn hinges. Quinn climbed the cracked stone stairs, gently pushing the door inwards. He snorted when it fell right off its hinges. Amazing it had lasted until now. Stepping over the door, he made his way into the house.

_There was blood everywhere. Slashed across the furniture. Splattered across overpriced tasteless paintings. The most morbid of scenes. Blood on the walls, blood smeared into the floor, blood dripping from his fingers. On the dagger clenched tightly in his trembling fist. He tossed the empty container of gasoline to the side. He held a cheap lighter, just waiting to be ignited. He had the power here. The time had come. There was nothing left for him here. His hand tightened on the lighter. It was time to watch his past burn._

Quinn trailed a hand lightly along the wall. Soot collected on the pads of his fingers. He rubbed them together carelessly. He remembered the sheer amount of artwork on every wall, a way to show off their prestige and money. Quinn had hated it. It was shallow, and he’d hated playing those games. His foot kicked at a piece of broken frame. He knelt down to inspect it, smiling. This one had been her favourite.

_His mothers blank eyes bore into his own. Eyes they shared. It was the only gene he’d inherited from her. Though her own were dulled now, they still seemed to be judging him, one last time. Even sprawled out on the floor as she was, his mother was not a force to be reckoned with. Even gone, she was still here. Her disappointment remained. He never did manage to become the son she’d hoped for. He bent to his knees, sliding her eyes shut. And he never would. Quinn stood up abruptly. And he ran._

The living room had not survived the devastation. It no longer resembled the home Quinn remembered. He moved on, barely sparing a glance at the spot of his mothers final moments. He would find nothing there. He looked beyond, smirking. The stairs had somehow made it more or less intact. But would they hold? Quinn rolled his shoulders back. Only one way to find out.

_His mother’s scream pierced the air as he plunged the blade deep into his fathers chest. Though he held no love for his father, Quinn felt his stomach turn at the feel of it sliding between the ribs and into thick muscle. His mother held a shaking hand to her mouth, eyes filling with tears. Swallowing bile, Quinn yanked the dagger out of his fathers chest with a sickening squelch. He would still need it. He turned slowly to his mother. She fell back a step. And then she took off. He bolted after her. She couldn’t be allowed to survive._

The metal bedframe still stood proud in his parents bedroom. It was here that his father breathed his last, here that Quinn’s actions changed his life forever. Here that he took a life for the first time. He’d never entered this room much, even as a child. He held no attachment to this room, nor the people in it. The room was as empty then as it is now.

_Quinn’s fingers slid along the keys with ease, one last time. He wanted the music to flow through him, wanted to feel the melody, one last time. Just one more attempt at normalcy, before everything changed. He’s stalling. He knows this. But just for a little longer, he wanted to hold onto this. Just for a little longer._

Quinn walked into the music room. And snorted derisively. Because of course the piano was somehow almost completely intact. The bane of his existence, and there it was, as if beckoning to him. He ran a finger along the top of it. He remembered being miserable playing this thing, there was nothing he’d hated more. He smiled bitterly. Taking a few steps back, he ran at it full force, barrelling into it. The piano fell over with a resounding crash. His shoulder throbbed. But he didn’t look back.

_Quinn fiddled with his keys nervously as he walked up the stone steps. This would be the last time. Tonight, everything would change. He was really doing this. There was no going back after this. He craned his neck, taking in the manor for the last time. No going back after this. Quinn took a breath, as he entered his house with an air of finality._

Quinn glanced back at the house. He felt nothing at the sight of his childhood home, burned down or otherwise. It was a mistake to come here. There was nothing here for him. He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Zach. Closure, he said. What an idiot. He gained nothing from this experience but a sore shoulder. He turned away, already lamenting the thought of the long forest trek. It was time to go home.


	23. Short

 

 

Hadley teetered dangerously in cherry red stilettos, awkwardly holding out a roll of measuring tape. Through a quick google search, she'd learned the statistical ideal height for women was 5'6". She was certain she could reach such a height on these stupidly unbalanced shoes. She frowned down at them. A thicker heel would have been ideal but… Hadley shrugged. Beggars can't be choosers.

Scrunching her face in concentration, Hadley slowly knelt down, wedging the metal bit under her heel. So far so good, now she just had to stretch the tape and maneuver herself back up simultaneously, no sweat. Careful, careful- success! Hadley smirked triumphantly. Now for the verdict…

Hadley pouted. 4'3"? She squinted at the number, mentally willing it to change. She'd known it wasn't likely, but she wasn't even close! A frown played at her lips, but this was only the first experiment of many. She couldn't give up after the first try. It irked the eight year old, but she'd have to find another way. If anything, she'd surely grow into it. Excited with renewed purpose, Hadley's foot slipped, prompting the measuring tape to snap right back up. Mouth opening into a wide 'O', Hadley lost her balance, tilting left and right. She held her hands out to steady herself.

Hadley grinned at her victory. No stupidly tall shoes could stop her! She took a confident step forward- right onto the fallen measuring tape. Hadley squawked loudly, eyes wide in terror as she careened to the left, right into the towering bookshelf. She hit the hardwood floor, instinctively shielding her head with her arms as books rained down. She groaned, coughing at the expulsion of years of dust.

She shouldn't have been standing so close to the shelf. It was just asking for trouble. The blonde allowed herself to lay there for just a minute, heart rate slowing, and glared at the ceiling. She wanted to stomp her foot, wanted to scream out her frustrations. Nothing was going according to plan, nothing! It wasn't fair. Maybe she could live here. She'd become one with the books, learn their ways. It was better than showing her face after this incident. She closed her eyes, imagining it. surely she'd gain all sorts of knowledge, books had a lot of words after all.

Hadley jolted suddenly, eyes snapping open when a pair of large hands lifted her out of the wreckage by the armpits. Electric blue eyes expertly scanned her over for injuries, before she was set back down with a grunt. She honestly had no idea how he did that. she hadn't even heard him come in.

Hadley stood at an awkward angle, one shoe still on. God knows where the other one had flown off to. Slapping a grin on her face, Hadley waved widely and energetically.

"Hi Quinn!"

Quinn's calculating gaze didn't waver, boring down on her in search of answers. Hadley resisted the urge to fidget. Maybe if she just stood really still, he'd forget about her.

"What happened."

Then again, maybe not. Hadley giggled nervously. "Not a whole lot. Some stuff fell. Might have broken the bookshelf?"

She peered up at him with what she hoped was her most innocent expression. Quinn looked unmoved. She sighed. "It's stupid," she mumbled, kicking at a fallen book.

"Hadley," Quinn rumbled, lifting her chin up with his finger. Hadley nibbled on her lower lip, her resolve crumbling by the second.

"It was Zach's fault!" she blurted.

Quinn sighed. "It usually is. But I fail to see how this," he gestured to the mess, "falls under Zach's list of misdeeds."

Hadley's lip curled up in distaste. "He kept calling me short-stack, and-and oompa Loompa and-"

Hadley could feel her face heating up as she gained more momentum, "-and _Thumbelina_! What the _hell_ is a Thumbelina, an infectious disease? So I thought that if I wasn't short anymore, no way could he still call me names."

Quinn groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First of all, watch the language. Second of all," Quinn held up a finger when Hadley made to protest, "Never listen to Zach, he's an idiot."

Hadley giggled at that. Quinn and Zach had such a weird friendship, she didn't think she'd ever understand it.

Quinn knelt down, bringing his face down to her level. "Tell me, does your lack of height make you any less of an asset?"

Hadley scrunched her nose. Asset meant useful, right. Did her lack of height make her less useful?

"No way!" she yelled. "It doesn't matter how tall I am, because I'm gonna be the best!"

"So what have we learned today?"

"Zach's an idiot, and I'm fine as I am?" Hadley guessed. Quinn nodded.

"Exactly." Hadley preened under the attention as Quinn turned to leave. Then he looked at her again and snickered.

"Don't forget to clean this up. Shorty."

"Hey!"


End file.
